Diary of the Queen's Handmaiden
by Exquisiteliltart
Summary: The Evil Queen selects a handmaiden.  This story is  very dark, sick and twisted now. Inspired by the story of Elizabeth Bathory.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Diary of the Queen's Handmaiden (1/3)

Rating: PG- (subsequent chapters will be NC-17)

Fandom: Once upon a time

Summary: The Evil Queen selects a handmaiden. (This story is going to be very dark, sick and twisted eventually)

When her carriage rolled into my village I had just reached marrying age, but my betrothed was off fighting in the endless ogre wars. I often thought of him and of the life we were to embark on and prayed for his safe return, but that never came to pass. The whole village knew of the audition that the queen would be holding to select her handmaiden. All of the young women had donned their finest gowns, which looking back, seemed impressive, but to the queen it would have most certainly appeared paltry for our village was poor.

I had no desire to put on for the queen, as my brothers and sisters were young and ill, and I was only one who was strong and could provide for us. I wore boy's clothes instead of dresses as it was easier to chop wood and carry water in leather leggings then in billowy skirts. I was surprised when the queen took notice of me. She thought I was a boy at first glance, and she playfully pulled off my cap revealing my long blond hair. It fell past my shoulders, and she raised her perfect eyebrow in mild surprise.

After she realized I was, in fact, a girl, she asked my age and I told her I was on the rise of my 18th year. She seemed pleased by this and spread her palm over my chest, her eyes closed for a brief moment as she felt my heart beat, by far harder and louder than its usual steady cadence. Her eyes went wide and she took a deep breath before promptly inviting me to come to her tent that night. I bowed before her and simply uttered, "My Queen." For one does not refuse their queen, I learned that the hard way as time went on.

The queen's men set up their caravan on the edge of the village and a few other girls and I were procured at sundown to sit by her fire and wait our turn for a meeting. I felt oddly calm and unconcerned when I was taken into her tent. The first thing I noticed was the queen's beauty. She looked regal and elegant. She was splayed out on a bed of pillows and pelts and scrutinizing me with confidence. Which was the exact opposite of how I felt in that moment, meek and unworthy, as she inspected me. She dismissed the guard and we were left alone, and it was then that she asked me to disrobe. I did so with awkward trepidation. My body was strong from work, my thighs and arms defined, and not the dainty picture of a lady that was the ideal feminine shape.

She seemed to approve though, as she stood and moved toward me. She touched between my legs where no one had ever touched before except myself to wash, and asked if I had ever been with a man. I replied that I had never. She then asked if I desired to. I felt my skin flush in embarrassment. I knew what was required of marriage, but I had scarce time to think of it. I replied honestly that I had not paid much thought to the idea. She seemed pleased with my answer, and invited me to stay that night in her tent. I nodded my head as I pulled back on my leather clothes, a strange chill coursed through my body.

We were then presented with food, and dined on grapes, cheeses, sweet breads and cured meats. She insisted I take my fill. I had never before been able to eat all I wanted, and I relished the opportunity. She seemed to enjoy watching me eat, and made the promise that if I were to go with her, I would never be hungry or for wanting of anything.

She asked if I had ever left my village, and I told her I had not. She told me stories of faraway lands and of magic. I was captivated by her stories and her worldliness. I realized then that life in the village was not all there was to the world. I had never questioned my station in life, but that night something changed in my consciousness and understanding of the world.

When she saw me yawn and my eyelids droop, she guided me to her sleeping place. I went willingly, my belly was full and the day had been exceptionally long. My head swam from the ale I had drunk, intensifying my complacency and desire for rest. She soothed me and stroked my hair as she would a child, and she lay down next to me, drawing me close to her body and placing her hand over my heart. I slept almost instantly, remembering nothing but the feel of her warm body close to mine.

In the early light of dawn, I was woken by her and told that we would be taking our leave. I was confused and felt awkward for a moment. It then became clear that she had chosen me. She told me in no uncertain terms to say my final goodbyes to my family. I felt my heart break as I had never experienced change. Daily life had been one long loop of work, hardship, hunger and sleep. I went to my mother, who shed many tears over the news, but knew there was no option. She was happy in a way, wishing me a better life than what her own had produced. I worried for my family, but my people assured me they would tend to my mother and siblings as best they could. I then learned that the queen had paid my mother for me, a handsome sum I'm told, although I never have learned values of coin and gold.

As I had nothing to pack or take, save the clothes I was wearing, I was ushered into her carriage and we were off. She regarded me with a curiosity that made me blush under her gaze, and I felt I should speak, but no words came. I looked out the small window as the scenery became unfamiliar the farther we traveled through the forest, and the farther I was taken from my home.


	2. Chapter 2

I never imagined such a spacious nor beautiful place as the palace. The first few days went by like a fever. The castle bustled with activity, life moved at such a fast pace that I was in a constant struggle to keep up. I was measured and fitted endlessly for my new wardrobe. My head and heart overwhelmed by the contact I had with servants, guards, cooks and royals at court. I was never on my own for a moment, but I never felt more alone. My needs were taken care of before I could even voice them.

It's hard to explain, but I felt unworthy of such fine treatment. I felt certain The Queen had made a mistake in choosing me. I felt as an impostor, and that I should have something more to offer that would please her to keep her attentions. I thought often of my family and village, and wondered if they thought of me.

I didn't see the Queen for three days. On the third night, I was washed and dressed in a fine gown. The fabric was foreign to me, and I scarcely recognized my own reflection in the large looking glass in my room. I was summoned to her chamber after my hair was done up, tied with ribbon and flowers, and my face painted.

I was more nervous now. I had no idea what she wanted with me, although I hoped she would hold me close and we would sleep like the first night. I was so innocent then; the longer I stayed in her palace I learned not to fall victim to hope.

She told me it was a full moon, and the King had gone on one of his travels. She expressed her fear of ageing to me. She said she envied my youth and beauty and wished to possess it. My looks could never compete with a beauty such as hers and I expressed as much. Her dark eyes glimmered under the moon streams. The way she gazed into my own blues with such a hunger unnerved me a great deal, but I placed my body in her trust.

I was grateful when asked to disrobe for bed. The corset that bound my waist was uncomfortable; my breath came shallow and rapid. My fingers fumbled with the unfamiliar and multiple strings. She helped to unravel them, her amusement evident as she brushed aside my soft hair and nimbly unclothed me. I wore no undergarments. The sheets of her bed were cool and smooth, and the mattress so soft -even larger and softer than my own accommodations in the palace. It was the opposite of my straw stuffed bedroll back in my village…no longer my home. The palace was my home now, she said.

I watched as she removed her own gown so gracefully. I watched it fall from her body and pool on the floor. I felt a tug in my chest as she freely encouraged me to look at her. She must have known that I could not look away.

The closer she drew to me the harder I trembled. I was not afraid. I shook from the force of the emotions I felt as if they were trying to escape like a boiling pot of tea. I lie as still as possible as she joined me on the bed. She mapped my body with her hands, but I did not dare touch her. She whispered soothing words to calm my nerves. She placed her lips on mine. The touch was so light I at first thought it wasn't real. I closed my eyes tightly and willed my breath to cease. When I opened them she was so close to me and her face so loving and awed that I released my held breath and relaxed.

Her body seemed to fit on mine; thigh to thigh, belly to belly. The feeling was better than lying on the banks of the river after a summer swim. Her kisses on my chest became numerous. Her mouth wet and her breath increased in rate tenfold. Her fingers brushed my private place and I, by reflex, clamped my thighs shut. She coaxed them apart slowly, and I relented even as I worried. What a time to feel strong pangs of doubt and defectiveness, but when her fingers brushed between my legs and the first true jolts of life struck me like lightning I was only hers.

It was such a feeling to be had and desired like that; her pleasure only served to heighten mine. My feelings of meagerness melted away at her skilled hand, and I was left raw and craving of her. At the summit of my bliss, it happened. So swift, sharp and painful I cried out in pleasure and pain. It felt like a bite, her dagger. She dipped it to the skin of my ribs, just below my breast.

She licked the blood.


	3. Chapter 3

So it went on: when the moon was at her richest and fullest the queen would touch me in pleasure, then open me and drink of my blood. She'd heal the cuts that she'd inflict upon me. She possessed the magic to numb the pain of her blade, but she chose not to use it. I learned of her deep capacity for cruelty in that way. The blood magic kept her young and preserved her beauty. It did not come without price. There was an exchange: even as I'd crawl from her chamber, too weak to stand, I'd feel her power in my own blood just beyond reach.

I discovered the mirror by accident. I spent many hours staring at my own reflection. I seemed to age in acceleration. If it was from the Queen's magic or my own misery I did not know. I thought of my family, if only they could see me as the Queen's prisoner for that was how I now recognized myself. Before my eyes the image in the mirror shifted and swirled and my mother was revealed to me. A funeral, my youngest brother: Jacob. He expired before his second summer.

Four winters had passed since I'd been chosen as the Queen's handmaiden. On the nights when the King was in the palace little attention was minded me. Every so often the Queen would come to my chambers, tracks of fallen tears staining her cheeks. She'd lay with me and clutch me to her like a living doll. She'd smell of the King's sweat and ale and she'd cry against my shoulder. When she calmed, she'd turn from me, and I'd listen to her whisper in a language foreign to me: A spell to wither and destroy the King's seed.

She did not want a child of her own. She had a step-daughter, a kind and fair girl. She'd often send me to attend her, and then implore me to recall every detail. Her questions were personal and no matter what I told her it never was the answer she desired. I knew she watched me through the mirror. She did not know I could see her just after we had joined each cycle, and her magic still lingered in me. It did no harm, but I grew careful of my actions even in private. I grew afraid I'd garner her wrath at one misstep. I had witnessed many of the serving girls harshly punished for petty failures at the Queen's hand.

As the time passed, my solitude and fear mounted, as also did my own desire for a child of my own. The other young women of the palace were allowed to have husbands and babies. I was only permitted to hold and mind the young while their mothers worked. If only I could have my own I'd love my child so: kiss her sweet head and bounce her plump body on my knee to elicit gleeful squeals. I'd watch the other girls break to nourish their offspring from their breast, and thought of how I'd cherish a baby in every moment I lived.

It wasn't long before I saw my chance: the hushed talks and gossip in the palace corridors revealed the queen had taken a new prisoner: a male. His lodging was across the hall from my own room, and I caught glimpse of him as he was hauled in by guards. A rugged man, a tug older than myself: a virile man.

I made my preparations and when the chance arrived seven moons later I took it. I borrowed keys from the housemaid and stole into the new prisoner's room. My skills of seduction were rough and unpolished as I only knew of the Queen's tastes for passion. The prisoner was hesitant, convinced I'd been sent by her, but when I covered the mirror that overlooked his bed so she would not see our coupling, he relented to me.

The pain of penetration was nothing compared to the sting of the Queen's dagger. I felt serene as he took me; this visit was not for my pleasure. I only had my end purpose in mind. I knew it would be a long while before I would learn if the endeavor had been a success, but I could not risk visiting him again.

The Queen did not learn of my fornication with her prisoner. If she had seen or caught word, the retribution would have been swift. However, there was something I hadn't foreseen. I went to her as always on the night of the full moon. I knew the cycles of the moon as well as I knew those of my own body. We lay together and when she performed her beauty ritual, as she had taken to referring to it, her eyes always alive with lust for me. She took of my blood, and I braced for the draining feeling it never came to pass.

She grew frantic, cutting and slashing at my skin until her mouth and hands were covered in red. She turned her fury on me, asking what I had done over and over, her volume escalated on each word. I flushed with shame as it still pained me to displease her even after all she had robbed me of.

My blood was no longer virgin.

A/N: This was just a little experimental departure from my usual style of writing. OUAT doesn't focus on the Evil Queen's desire for youth and beauty like in most versions, and I was reading about The Blood Countess: Elizabeth Bathory, and thought it would be kind of interesting if the Evil Queen used blood magic to maintain her looks.


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